The Proper Thing
by Besieged Infection
Summary: AU I fell in love with a streaker... Takes place in 1973.


**The Proper Thing**

**A story by Besieged Infection**

**HAPPY ZEMYX DAY!**

**Standard Disclaimer Applies**

…

"Keep in mind that this quiz will account for ten percent of your current grade," a man announced, making his way along the aisle between what appeared to be a classroom filled with students. His skin was unnaturally pale, eyes a shocking blue, and hair a depressing shade of slate that hung unceremoniously across half his face. Banana yellow bell bottoms hugged slim hips as a neon blue tee outlined a meager figure, feet placed in a pair of comfy-looking, though downright _hideous_ Earth Shoes. The students were dressed likewise, and the only thing that set him apart was the name tag draped around his neck proclaiming "Hollow Bastion Community College: Teacher: Corazza, Zexion V."

Loping back to his desk, the man collapsed into his chair with quiet grace, lounging against the back to look over his immaculate space and towards the students. They had been silent as the afternoon had progressed. _Too_ silent. This unnerved the man. English Composition was _never_ that quiet.

Something was up.

A few minutes into the quiz, the door burst open, clutching its hinges for dear life as nearly a dozen freshman burst through the opening, utterly naked. The class burst into life, tearing papers in two and removing their own clothing. Before long, Zexion was the only person in the classroom still clothed, and it was easy to tell the event had been planned. Some of the students covered their bodies with nervous hands, and there was no talking- only noise.

With a sigh, the man stood up, making his way towards the group of nineteen-year-olds. They cheered, thinking he was to join them, assuming chaos had won. Some, however, went silent as his clothes remained in place. Nearly four feet from the crowd, he brought himself to a halt. Slowly, but surly, the group quieted and turned to look at him.

"Step forward, Mr. O'Donohue," he announced with confidence, face void of any emotion. From the crowd, a blond boy parted from the rest, just as naked as the others. However, he carried a look of self-assurance among blue eyes and sharp features. He stood before the man, slim body aligned to present the entirety of his from without shame or embarrassment.

"Demyx R O'Donohue, in the flesh!" he announced grandly. The crowd behind him giggled, and even Zexion had to admit it was amusing.

"Mr. O'Donohue-" the man began, unsurprised by the outburst.

"Call me Demyx," the blond insisted, successfully cutting him off.

Zexion fixed him with a look. "_Mr. O'Donohue_," he hissed, "I will speak to you in private later as you are, no doubt, the ringleader of this spectacle. For now, the lot of you had best dress yourselves or I shall be forced to call security." He allowed himself a smirk with the crowd quickly dispersed, tugging shirts, pants, and underclothes on with a haste only achieved through fear- a haste he'd expected. Meanwhile, he turned to his desk, shuffling one of the many perfect stacks of paper. "I hope you are all well aware that this act has given you all zeros on your quiz." A series of groans was his only reply. "Class dismissed."

"Why so stiff, teach?" a voice whispered into Zexion's ear. The man jumped away, brandishing the stack of paper as if it were a weapon.

"Put some clothes on, O'Donohue, you're burning my retinas," he spat. There was laughter before the boy left, only to return sporting a pair of boxers and clothes piled in one arm.

"You _know_ you liked it," he whispered just low enough so only Zexion could hear.

"I do not get my jollies from schoolboys, Mr. O'Donohue."

"Call me Demyx."

"Until you are my intellectual equal I shall call you no such thing." The blond scoffed at this. "Seeing such a thing will never happen I suggest you surrender while you can." A few seconds passed, in which the class emptied and there was a certain finality to the dull _"click"_ of the door as it closed. At last, Zexion was alone.

Or so he thought.

Just as he relaxed, warm hands grasped at his shoulders, then his wrists, turning him to press him back-first into his immaculate desk as the papers he'd held slipped to the floor in a haphazard mess. "You should try it sometime, you know," Demyx drawled. "Getting naked with a friend and doing stuff is fun."

"Streaking is _extremely_ improper-"

"It's not streaking I'm referring to, _Professor_." The title was said in mocking voice as he pressed Zexion further into the desk, bending nearly in half until their lips were only a breath apart. "I'm talking about _sex_."

A quick knee to the groin dispatched the boy atop him, allowing Zexion to free himself from the taller boy's hold. "I do not know what has been going through your head," he began, livid, "but if you think you can get away with such an insinuation you are sorely wrong," he hissed, staring straight at the boy's writhing form.

"You _smashed_ my _balls_!" Demyx managed to gasp through the pain.

"If I ever gave you the impression that I could accept such a crude and revolting invitation then I must apologize profusely."

"My _balls_! My poor _balls_!" he continued to whine in a deprecating counter-tenor.

"I will take this time to inform you that I, for one, have no intention to sleep with you. Two, I express a desire for you to _think_ before you act. It's 1973, not some tye-dyed decade of hippies with bongs to spare," he huffed.

Demyx continued to squeak about his balls.

During the entire speech, however, Zexion couldn't have been happier that the boy hadn't actually listed to him lecture, what with the "balls" matter dominating his conscience. If he had he would have heard the waver in his voice, looked up, and seen that the teacher's entire face was beet red. Instead, Zexion resumed his lecture with pointing out the fact that he was sixteen years the blond's senior as Demyx continued to whine about his crotch. Zexion knew that everything he spouted was just a way to cover up what he _really_ thought, though.

It wasn't proper to admit one's attraction to their student, and it was even worse to admit that he'd long since been in love with a streaker.

A _streaker_.

…

**End Notes: The original prompt for this was "I fell in love with a streaker." Came up with this in U.S. history- we were studying the decades. In the 1970's streaking, earth shoes, and neon bell-bottoms were _popular,_**** believe it or not**. HAPPY ZEMYX DAY! Review?

**Kudos to Zenelly, the AMAZING BETA OF WONDERFULNESS!**

**Besieged Infection**


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